


A.S.T.R.A.L.

by chodes



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Angst, Disabled Character, Explicit Language, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Humor, Mental Health Issues, Multi, Pining, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-27
Updated: 2017-07-29
Packaged: 2018-12-07 17:56:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11628834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chodes/pseuds/chodes
Summary: At the center for Aerospace Technology Research and Laboratory (A.S.T.R.A.L.), an elite program that has discrimination down to a science, Prompto dreams of spaceflight.





	1. Sequentia

Today was a spontaneous substance check. Inside the sterile white examination room, Noctis brushed his Citadel-tailored blazer away from his hips and fumbled with his belt. A man with shoulder-length auburn hair in a white coat pretended to write on his notepad and hummed.

“Crown Prince. Pisses on command. So lovely down there, did I ever tell you that?”

“Only every time I’m in here,” Noctis yawned, doing his best to ignore the doctor's clinical stare.

“Your hand is shaking again, Highness. That’s a fantastic piece of equipment you’re handling there, I suggest you be more careful. You wouldn’t believe how many your age wished their parents ordered one like that.”

“Sorry– uh, you know what?” he sighed. “Guess I’m still not used to the whole… _this_.”

The doctor huffed dramatically and tutted condescendingly. “I’m telling you, we’ve been doing this for three months.”

“ _And I’m telling you_ ,” he grumbled through an embarrassed flush. “I’m still not used to holding my dick out while some stranger writes _reports_ about it.”

“Highness, we’re hardly strangers now, don’t you think?” Dr. Izunia– _Ardyn_ , smirked unashamedly, took the sample, placed it in the extractor, and turned toward the electronic console to input the information from his notepad. The machine beeped in confirmation.

“As usual, you’re in optimal health, Noctis. Now run along.”

 _Gladly_.

Noctis hurried to tuck himself back in his hard-pressed slacks and readjusted his uniform. He sent the doctor a parting eyeroll and walked through the circular doorway and into the corridor toward the checkpoint. He faintly heard the pull of the zipper of the student behind him. The poor bastard.

He strode the newly-familiar halls with practiced confidence. Classmates and staff acknowledged him with a polite nod as he passed by. He saw hundreds of students every single day– blank faces, smartly-pressed suits, and conservative haircuts. Conversely, Noctis wandered the halls with his black hair artfully falling in his face and hugging against his nape. His eyelashes constantly battled the loose strands that fell against his eyes. He never had a haircut in his life.

Clean lines of minimalist, interior architecture and cleaner floors shone bronze and silver in the window-filtered sunlight. Halls wrapped around the main building in a curve that surrounded the shuttle. Students, faculty, and staff alike often perused the roof for reconnaissance or launch-gazing. Noctis chewed his lip in thought as he walked to the entrance hall. It was that he was standing right beside his goal that he knew exactly how far away he was from it.

Noctis tried not to fidget as he stood in line for seven minutes. Seven minutes to move from the entrance hall to the checkpoint and never a moment earlier or later. The access gate glowered at him every day, and every day he came up with another option for escape. Others stood in lines around him, their uniforms matching his in every way as they took carefully-rhythmed steps to the access gate. Step, scan, beep. The unnerving feeling had long since left his bones, but the pinprick of panic always kept him in check. It was his turn, now. He pressed his right forefinger over the biometrics identifier and glanced down at the tiny screen as it pressed into his skin and drew exactly one-sixtieth of a fluid dram of blood. It beeped.

ID: 011010100-09564

NOCTIS LUCIS CAELUM

V A L I D

He straightened his shoulders and strode through the electronic gate before it changed its mind. The faint tremor beneath his polished derbies alerted him to the first launch of the day. Noctis quickened his pace toward the large window that overlooked the shuttle. Large herds of smoke gathered around it. He was just in time.

The pillar of everything that was great– the spaceship, vibrated with readiness faster than the prince’s eyes could follow. Noctis viewed with envy as the orbiter access arm retracted from the ground. He sighed, but made no move to leave. The grand finale was still–

“You’re always here, watching the first launch.”

Noctis jumped. He blushed at the remark and turned to face his classmate.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you there, Your Highness,” a girl with a blond, curly bob smiled. Her accent was strange.

“Just Noctis,” he could barely hold back a smile.

“Cindy,” she replied amicably. The tremors grew more violent and his attention instantly turned back to the launch outside. The rocket boosters were just about to ignite. He vaguely noticed as Cindy stood closer.

 _Oh, it was beautiful_. The thick smoke would have almost obscured his vision of the launch, but the large containers of water nearby cleared the path and protected the surrounding architecture. He gazed longingly as the ship broke through the sky and made its way toward the cosmic heavens.

“One more month, and I can apply,” he said. He didn’t even bother to hide the impatience in his tone.

“You’re really looking forward to this,” Cindy pursed her lips thoughtfully. "Ya wanna leave Eos that bad, huh?"

“It’s my dream,” he fully turned toward her once the ship disappeared from his sight. Her eyes were green. “Next month’s admissions means everything to me.”

She snickered and checked her phone. “No one’s a better fit than royalty.”

Noctis furrowed his brows, but didn’t reply. He had a class to go to, so he mumbled an excuse and left through the eastern corridor. He felt Cindy’s eyes on him as he walked away, and he fidgeted with his silver cuff-links. She was weird.

She was also in his class. Noctis felt his leg shake with restlessness under the desk as Cindy walked down the columns of desks and presented the optimized flight routes on the students’ desks for the month. He smiled awkwardly as she passed him and wasn’t surprised when she ignored him. He closed his eyes and counted down before he slid his fingertips across the thin black sensor on his desk, projecting a thinly-designed computer screen that hovered just at eye level. After inputting his credentials, Noctis booted up the program to begin the simulation.

Noctis allowed his fingers to glide along the holographic scala monitor and input the route he’d flown in his dreams. He could have done it in his sleep, but conquering the current boredom was the least of his concerns. He heard the gentle steps of the director make his rounds throughout the classroom. It was only a matter of time. Noctis pulled the sanitary wipe from his desk drawer and began removing the minuscule skin residue he had shed along his workspace. _Close to godliness_ , he reminded himself.

“Impeccable hygiene, Highness,” a small, aged voice praised discreetly behind him. He didn’t wait for Noctis to reply. “I would like you to know that you’ve been chosen along the team for this week’s launch as navigator.”

Noctis froze. The microfiber wipe creased under his palm.

“ _This week_?”

“Yes,” the older man shuffled. “I understand it may seem just around the corner, but I have every ounce of confidence to see you on Selene this year,” he paused, studying the look on the young man’s face. “I assume you have been studying for admission next month,” he leaned in. “Take this news as your acceptance notice– you are A.S.T.R.A.L.’s best navigator in a long time.”

The man smiled proudly and expectantly. Noctis couldn’t figure out a damned thing to say, but he felt the corners of his lips curve. It seemed enough.

The director puffed with pride. “Such a fine member of our time. Keep at it.”

“Not one single error in over two million keystrokes,” he chortled and fiddled with his long, silver beard. “Few have shown your potential, but I suppose it’s to be expected of the Crown Prince.”

“Thank you, Director Iedolas,” was all he could say. It was becoming too much.

“No such finer genetics have been created for this,” the old man mused to himself, walking down another row of students. Noctis finished wiping down his workspace and placed the cloth in a small, sealed container filled with isopropyl alcohol. His mind buzzed.

The director was right. Noctis’s genetics couldn’t have been better for this, yet it was an unsurprising sequence of events. Noctis Lucis Caelum, Crown Prince and navigator first class, was about to embark on A.S.T.R.A.L.'s year-long endeavor to Selene, the largest moon of Eos. It was an assignment that only the most prestigious, well-studied people of the elite class could hope to access, but for Noctis, his mere existence was his guarantee. It wasn’t just because he had the blood of kings in his veins, no– he was a genetic masterpiece. No one was surprised at the achievements of Noctis.

Except, the young man smirked to himself, he wasn’t Noctis.


	2. Filum

“Honey, I’m home!” he sing-songed with unmasked radiance, closing the front door to a grand, but not ostentatious apartment. The crisp sound of Dior oxfords clicked on the hardwood floor toward him from around the corner. His eyebrows quirked up. “Ignis?”

“Ah, welcome home, Prompto. His Majesty is on his way. We were fishing,” a hint of a smile wrapped along his lips. Ignis was dressed casually in a grey oxford button down, dark-wash jeans, and black derbies.

“Did he catch anything worth eating this time?” his stomach grumbled with hope.

“Ah–”

“What do you mean,  _this time_?” a young, slim-suited man in a wheelchair rolled inside the living room with a tilted head and smug expression. His dark hair was mussed in its usual bedhead– _avant garde_ – aesthetic.

“N-nothing, Noct,” he rubbed a finger under his nose.

“That’s what I thought,” Noct sniffed. Ignis walked to the man’s side and lifted him from the wheelchair effortlessly before sitting him on the grey sofa. He reached toward the coffee table and turned on the television by tapping twice on the subtle, round sensor.

“Prompto, make sure to place your blazer on the hanger I’ve provided in the foyer,” Ignis said, wiping a stray water droplet from a strand of his sandy hair. “I’m going to add a pocket to the lining; Noct had the brilliant idea to have you hold an extra brush on you while you’re at school. We tend to shed more in warmer climates.”

“Wow, that’s really smart,” he looked from Ignis to his friend. “Thanks, Noct.”

“Well, I figured,” Noctis explained, eyes focused on the televised documentary. “If you’re going to be me, you’re going to do it right. Right?”

“Y-yeah, of course,” Prompto answered in awe. Ignis moved to sit down next to Noctis and whispered something in his ear, prompting the man to chuckle quietly. Prompto smiled and walked into the foyer. He placed his blazer on the hanger and frowned to himself. He glanced back at the two on the sofa, shook his head, and headed to his bedroom down the hall. He’d tell Noct later.

Prompto’s phone buzzed as he changed back into more comfortable clothes and tied his hair back from his face. He looked to his dust-covered nightstand and took the topmost tome from it. _The Modern Bell Curve_. Prompto cringed; the mission director recommended it to him during his entrance interview nearly three months ago and he bought it later that day. He barely got past the preface before almost hurling it out the nearby window in agony.

“Small sacrifices,” he whispered to himself, opening to the first chapter. Three sentences in and the regret was welling back to the surface. His phone buzzed again. Prompto shrugged, tossed the book back on the nightstand, and reached for his device. Prompto mumbled a command in its general direction, and it displayed a couple messages from Noctis. Prompto sent a half-hearted glare toward the ceiling. 

> Hey com sit w us n tell us about ur day

> Specs is ordering za btw

Prompto pursed his lips in contemplation at the second message. There was no way that man would order some ‘za unless it was practically a breaded salad, or Noctis actually _didn’t catch anything worth eating_. Prompto stood up and padded to the restroom to wash the light makeup from his face before heading back to the living room. Ignis reclined next to Noctis, holopad in hand as he ordered dinner.

“Oh, so I mention delicious ‘za and you get out of your room,” Noctis stated dully, tapping his chin. “I see.”

“You’re so weird,” Prompto said as he plopped ungracefully on Noctis’s other side.

“Got it from you,” Noctis retorted and turned to face him openly. “I almost wish I had freckles.”

“W-what?” that caught him off guard.

“They look good on your face,” the prince answered simply. “And by extension, they’d look good on my face. Isn’t that right, Specs?”

“Yes, Noct.”

Prompto furrowed his brows with suspicion and leaned over to make eye contact with the older man. “Were you even listening?” Noct chuckled next to him.

“Of course,” Ignis pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose and held the holopad aside, staring intently at Noctis’s face. “Freckles would accent the prince’s boyish charm while maintaining his handsomeness. On the other hand, freckles are a clear determinant of skin damage from the sun, and I would not like to think of the future dangers that may allude to. But I digress, Noct looks splendid just as he is.”

Prompto’s eyebrows got a good workout as they rose incrementally while Ignis kept talking. Noct turned a complex shade of red and turned back at the television. Ignis smirked and the indoor light menacingly flickered over his frames.

A beat of silence.

 _Fuck it_.

“I’m flying at the end of the week.”

Noctis and Ignis turned their heads so quickly, it had to have given them whiplash. Alarmed, Prompto backed up against the arm of the sofa.

“ _The end of the week_? Why?” they asked simultaneously.

“I-I… I impressed the mission director.”

“So, what about your exams?” Noctis looked at him skeptically. Ignis hummed.

“I don’t need to take them. I’ve already been cleared to fly.”

“Wow. Okay,” Noctis replied slowly. He lifted his hands to his mouth, mimicking a man in prayer. A sinister smile wiggled its way around the gesture. “We need to celebrate. Alcohol. And before you say it, Ignis–”

“Noctis, you can’t–”

“–I’ve already prepared a couple more samples for him!” Noctis held up his hands and wildly shook them in Prompto’s direction. “King’s Knight had a large-ass update last evening and I had nothing better to do while it downloaded. So. Alcohol,” the smile returned.

Prompto scooted toward the prince and nudged their foreheads together. He looked into deep blue eyes and smiled back.

“My treat then.”

“Well, hurry and get dressed again.”

Ignis rolled his eyes at the exchange, cancelled the elaborately-picky food order, and grabbed the vehicle keys before heading outside. Prompto hopped off the sofa and brought the wheelchair toward Noctis before helping him in it. The prince wheeled around on a dime and smiled up at his friend.

“C’mon, get ready!”

Prompto laughed and began to walk down the hall, hearing the light movement of the wheels behind him.

“I told you to hurry,” Noctis sniffed exaggeratedly. “I’m his Highness, aren’t I?”

“More like High Maintenance,” Prompto turned and stuck his tongue out before running into his room. A muffled, obnoxious scoff rang through the hall. Prompto laughed as he pulled the navy tailored suit from his wardrobe and carefully put it on. He felt weightless in his thoughts as he combed his hair backward, adjusted his violet tie, and pushed out the door with Noctis in a wheelie position.

Once they got settled, Prompto noticed the serious look on Ignis’s already-serious face. “Hey Iggy, we’re not gonna do anything dumb. I’ll take good care of the prince.”

“Yeah,” Noct chimed in and reached forward to pat Ignis’s shoulder. “He’ll take good care of me.”

“You’re right,” the man visibly relaxed his shoulders. “Just make sure to call me once you’re ready to tuck in for the night.”

“‘Tuck in’, like what? Cover him in a blanket and read him a story until he falls asleep?” Prompto giggled at the imagery. He didn’t miss when Noctis squirmed in his seat.

“So what?” Noctis looked away. Ignis had that small smile on his face.

 _Whoa_.

Prompto took out his phone, booted up the King’s Knight app, and looked to Noct. It was a silent peace offering, and it was a silent peace offering that worked as the man smiled shyly and grabbed his phone, too.

The restaurant hall was loud, dimly-lit, and performers perused the area with silken, body-contouring costumes that glittered like constellations and elongated the silhouette like comets. Some of the guests stood to dance with the performers in an elegant foot-serenada.

“How many?” the waiter inquired. He briefly glanced at Noctis before looking up again. “Two?”

The young men nodded, and the waiter smiled, gesturing them to follow. It wasn’t long before Prompto realized they were headed toward the back of the room. He stopped walking, holding Noctis’s wheelchair at a halt.

“Sorry, but we’d like to see the show.”

The waiter turned around stiffly. “Are you sure? We can–”

“If we wanted a quiet meal, we’d have just gone elsewhere,” Noctis crossed his arms. The delicate silver pinstripes on his suit jacket glimmered under the low lights.

“Of course,” the waiter had them retrace their steps toward a table near the center of the area in front of the stage. “Will this do?”

“Perfect, thank you,” Prompto stepped forward, already clearing the extra seat out of the way for Noctis. Two small holopads were given to them.

“Anything you’d like to start with?” the uniformed man asked once they settled in.

“A cocktail, the strongest you’ve got,” Noctis answered immediately and pointed toward Prompto. “He’ll have the same.”

“Is there an occasion?”

Noctis looked to Prompto expectantly. He shrugged and craned his head back to the waiter. “I guess. I’ll be off to fly to Selene later this week. Through ASTRAL.”

The man’s eyes widened. “Congratulations,” he said and bounded off hurriedly to order their cocktails.

“We’re just here for the drinks, right?” Noctis asked, frowning.

“Duh.”

 

* * *

 

 

“So what’s Selene like?” Noct tilted his head curiously. His eyes were unfocused with the pressure of three cocktails in his system.

“Well,” Prompto began, lips lazy. “It’s all silver and grey. Both dull and lustrous, but–” he pulled his second, mostly-full cocktail glass toward his mouth. “Here,” he murmured, taking a long drag from his cigar and softly exhaling the smoke into the glass. The smoke billowed and clouded endlessly in the small space like a rolling, silver silk.

“We have large gusts of wind on our moon, so the surface is often hard to see, even from Eos,” Prompto sat back in his seat, staring at the cloudy smoke. “I’m gonna go see it.”

“You’re going to be gone for a year.”

Prompto nodded. “What about you? What are you going to do?”

“Travel, of course,” Noct laughed. “I think I’ll visit the tombs of the old kings, you know.”

“Dude!” he gasped. “I wanna go!”

Noctis smiled and shook his head. He folded his arms defiantly. “I would allow it if you could, but I can only bring the Crownsguard. Ignis needs to stretch his legs, and Gladio’s been bothering me about making the trip for months. Might as well.”

“ _Gladio_?” Prompto almost swallowed his tongue.

“Gladiolus Amicitia,” Noct finagled his way around the pronunciation and took another sip of his drink. A group of women cheered in the next room over. “He’s my Shield. He’s mostly just my bodyguard if I leave the capital. I should probably introdu–”

“N-no, don’t worry about it,” Prompto waved his hand. Noct raised a trimmed brow. “The less people know, the better. I’m pretty sure I won’t ever have to meet him anyway.”

“I guess,” Noct looked around at their table before gulping down the rest of his and Prompto’s drinks. “Let’s head back before Iggy dies of worry, yeah?”

“Gotcha,” Prompto fished out his phone and yawned out half of the voice commands, but it dialed Ignis’s number with ease. The man picked up on the first ring. “We’re ready to go!”

Noctis dug out his wallet, picked a card at random, and scanned it in his holopad before wheeling away behind Prompto. Ignis was already parked outside.

“Prompto and I forgot how shitty the waiters are there,” Noctis hiccuped.

“Or shitty any of the waiters are anywhere in this district,” Prompto added. “As if just being born isn’t enough.”

Noct leaned his head on Prompto’s shoulder and hummed. Prompto leaned away. “Oh, no you don’t. You’re staying awake and helping me get your scrawny ass into bed this time.”

He heard Ignis laugh from the driver’s seat. It was a rare, flighty sound, and Prompto kept up the banter with a mouthy prince until they arrived home just to keep hearing it.

Ignis drove carefully on the way back. He set the vehicle command to maximum stability in order to prevent either of the men– mostly the prince– from getting sick, but the streets were never the best at night for self-driving operations.

The vehicle purred and hovered through the streets cascaded in wondrous neon beams that curved and twirled together like the bioluminescent veins of the city. Its metallic shell automatically rotated to accommodate both wide and narrow lanes while the interior remained steady in orientation, the passengers none the wiser. Before long, Ignis parked the vehicle in front of the apartment, and turned back to the two in the back. Even with the lack of light, he could easily tell them apart.

“We’re here,” he said. Prompto was out immediately and began to set up the wheelchair.

“Alright,” he stood near Noct’s open door and put his hands on his hips. “Let’s get you tucked in.”

Noctis giggled. “Carry me.”

“Hell no,” Prompto crossed his arms. “I’m not Iggy.”

Noctis turned around. “Iggy, carry me.”

Ignis raised an eyebrow and stepped outside. He nudged Prompto out of the way and picked the prince up. Noctis visibly preened in his arms until Ignis placed him down in his chair. Prompto guffawed.

“As much as I’d like to make sure his Majesty doesn’t keep trying to take advantage of your hospitality, Prompto,” he made his way back toward the driver seat. “I must turn in for the night. Make sure to sleep early to minimize any potential danger tomorrow.”

Prompto saluted and Noctis waved wildly as the taller man drove off for the night. He hoped he would come back to make tea in the morning for his head. The two men made a beeline for the door the same way they left it, with Noctis in a wheelie position.

“If my middle name isn’t ‘Danger’…” Noctis babbled. Prompto held back a snicker and tried to turn him into the doorway to his bedroom. Noctis stretched his arm out and slammed it against the wall. “I’m sorry,” he slurred to the injured limb.

“Come on,” Prompto stopped the wheelchair at the foot of the bed. “At least help me this time.”

The prince, in all of his natural, boyish beauty and quick wit, stared up at him with half-lidded eyes. Prompto took a deep breath and picked him up quickly, immediately falling down from the imbalance and alcoholic influence.

“Noctis, please!” he whined, buried under expensive fabric and black hair.

“‘M sorry,” the prince mumbled. He pushed his upper body off of his friend and, with more effort than it should have taken, assisted Prompto in getting himself on the bed.

Prompto grasped Noctis’s ankles and straightened him out before pulling off his patent leather brogues. Noctis sighed theatrically.

“Wouldn’t it be great if Ravus and Luna could visit?”

Ah, Noct’s online friends, or whatever. Prompto knew Luna was a friend, but he recalled Noct yelling angrily into the night about something Ravus did to him. Something about Luna.

“I thought you didn’t like that Ravus guy?”

“Nah, he’s um,” Noct’s eyes glazed over as he smacked his lips in thought. “I wanna make it up to ‘im. I wanna be sober though, I wanna be sober like the last time I saw ‘im.”

“But the last time you saw him was…” Prompto paused. That didn’t add up. He looked down at the prince’s legs. A bubbly laugh made him jump and his head swim a bit.

“It didn’t work out,” Noctis pouted, twirling his own tie around a couple fingers. “I’m still here, aren’t I? I’ll do it right next time.”

Prompto swallowed, concerned. “Don’t talk like that, buddy.”

 _Loneliness? Anger? Is it me?_ Prompto’s mind scrambled through his drunken stupor.

“Y-you have Ignis,” Prompto reasoned, grasping at straws. He removed Noct’s tie and checked his pockets for anything sharp. “He never leaves you alone.”

“Iggy is, you know,” Noctis waved his hand dismissively, almost smacking Prompto in the face. “He’s just giving me a good time.”

“I’m pretty sure he’s in love with you…” Prompto trailed off and rolled his lips tightly together, putting his blabbering, traitorous mouth to a halt. Noctis shrugged through it.

“More like he can’t get a date because he has to carry me around all the time.”

Prompto grimaced.

“Go to sleep,” he pleaded, crestfallen, nudging Noctis further up the bed.

“I’m proud of you, Prompto,” Noctis smiled dreamily. He was really drunk.

**Author's Note:**

> Sci-fi films and Dior collections fueled this piece so ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


End file.
